Day 30 : Didn’t go with the prompt but this small poem is dedicated to all those who took the A-Z Challenge and NaPoWriMo challege for the first time and has been successful to complete both the challenges in April. Kudo’s to all my fellow bloggers.
Challenges you took,
Though its your first stive,
You Nailed it.
(c) by Preethi.B
It has been a wonderful journey learning new things, connecting with new people and many more. I would like to thank NaPoWriMo for giving us such a wonderful opportunity. Thank you once again NaPoWriMo. And all those who has been encouraging me by reading, liking and commenting and advising me on my posts 🙂 Thanks a ton 🙂
Between the computer, a pencil, and a typewriter
half my day passes. One day it will be half a century.
I live in strange cities and sometimes talk
with strangers about matters strange to me.
I listen to music a lot: Bach, Mahler, Chopin, Shostakovich.
I see three elements in music: weakness, power, and pain.
The fourth has no name.
I read poets, living and dead, who teach me
tenacity, faith, and pride. I try to understand
the great philosophers–but usually catch just
scraps of their precious thoughts.
I like to take long walks on Paris streets
and watch my fellow creatures, quickened by envy,
anger, desire; to trace a silver coin
passing from hand to hand as it slowly
loses its round shape (the emperor’s profile is erased).
Beside me trees expressing nothing
but a green, indifferent perfection.
Black birds pace the fields,
waiting patiently like Spanish widows.
I’m no longer young, but someone else is always older.
I like deep sleep, when I cease to exist,
and fast bike rides on country roads when poplars and houses
dissolve like cumuli on sunny days.
Sometimes in museums the paintings speak to me
and irony suddenly vanishes.
I love gazing at my wife’s face.
Every Sunday I call my father.
Every other week I meet with friends,
thus proving my fidelity.
My country freed itself from one evil. I wish
another liberation would follow.
Could I help in this? I don’t know.
I’m truly not a child of the ocean,
as Antonio Machado wrote about himself,
but a child of air, mint and cello
and not all the ways of the high world
cross paths with the life that–so far–
belongs to me.
by Adam Zagajewski
Ooohhh it is the last day of the A-Z Challenge. Well firstly let me congratulate all those who made it till the end (all 26 posts in April) and also all those who participated in the challenge. This is my first journey and I must admit it went wonderful by getting to learn a lot of new things, a few new words, reading a few very interesting short stories, listening to old and new songs and also knowing fellow bloggers.
I would like to thank the A-Z Challenger for giving us this wonderful opportunity. And would also like to thank all my fellow bloggers for supporting and encouraging me for successfully finishing this challenge.
Day 28: Our early-bird prompt this year (on March 31) was an ekphrastic poem. This is something similar — a poem written from a photograph. There are four below, one of which I hope will catch your fancy. But if you’ve a particular photo in mind that you’d like to use, go right ahead. Happy writing http://www.napowrimo.net/2014/04/day-27-2/
What a Prank!
Rubbing her eyes,
Entering the garden,
Loudly she cries…..
She search’s here and there,
But she can’t find anyone near,
She stands still with fear…..
They don’t practise Halloween,
But she see’s pumpkin,
Resting next to it is a skeleton…..
She hears people yelling with joy,
April fool is what they say,
What a prank they played…
Day 27: Today’s prompt comes to us from Vince Gotera, who wrote his “family member” poem for Day 20 in the form of a curtal sonnet. As Vince explains, the curtal sonnet is shorter than the normal, fourteen line sonnet. Instead it has a first stanza of six lines, followed by a second stanza of four, and then closes with a half-line. The form was invented in the 1800s by Gerard Manley Hopkins, who used it in his famous poem “Pied Beauty”. So for today, I challenge you to give the curtal sonnet a whirl. It doesn’t need to rhyme — though it can if you like — and feel free to branch out beyond iambic pentameter. Happy writing!
Tears slowly rolled down on her pink cheeks,
About their grandparents when friends speak,
Knowing, grandparents treat their grand-chlidren at peak,
Knowing, the love for their grand-children is so unique,
Knowing, Lullaby is sung every night to put their grand-children to sleep,
As her grandparents love is what she always seek…..
Though physically grandparents are present but love never existed,
She had seen love for grand-children was speacial as the moives had listed,
Thinking to herself, Why is your boy’s son to you so dear,
Tell me grandparents, why is your girl’s kids not even near…..
Your love is Unfair!